Disclaimer: The dragons belong to DreamWorks. Jehanne belongs to history.

Chapter 2

Domrémy, France

1427

Father survived, just as the saints had promised, although his leg never fully recovered, and he walked with a cane from then on. Pierre and Jean had also escaped the attack on the granary, and Jacquemin's family was safe as well. With our house destroyed, the whole family bedded with them for a while until we could build a new one. Our new house was smaller than the old one and not as well-built, but our farm was safe, and we still got by.

St. Michael didn't often appear to me, but St. Catherine and St. Margaret spoke to me daily, bidding me to go to church, say my prayers, and help my family in any way I could. They saved my life twice in the following year. Once, they warned me that a raid was coming and told me to carry a smoked eel with me all day. It was gross, but when the Vikings came, their dragons wouldn't come near me. That put to rest any lingering doubt I might have had. I never would have thought of that on my own.

The second time, the saints didn't warn me of the raid ahead of time. They said I needed to learn to face dragons up close, and I got closer than I ever dreamed that day. In that raid, a Deadly Nadder ran me over, leaving me lying on the ground under it. I was in the dragon's blind spot, but not its rider's. But St. Catherine told me to scratch under its chin. Suddenly, the Nadder turned docile and tipped over on its side, throwing its rider off, cursing in Norse. He got up and tried to kill me, but Jean and Pierre ran up and killed him first. Mother said it was a miracle I survived, and I didn't correct her, since it was sort of true anyway.

I was in less danger after that, and I learned fast. For two years after I first saw the saints in the garden, I stayed at home and learned all they had to teach me. But it was only a matter of time before I was noticed. The week I left home started like any other—at least any other of that year. I got up early in the morning, and did my chores, but in the afternoon, I was free to wander off on my own. I ran out to the forest beyond our farm, quickly walking the path I had taken many times. It wasn't the easiest path; I had to cross a stream on a fallen tree and scramble over an outcropping of rocks; and the villagers would probably have been surprised to see a young girl take it so fast-at least one wearing a dress. Finally, I reached the hidden clearing where the saints had led me much earlier: a quiet glade with a pool of water to one side. There was no sign of movement when I arrived, but I knew my friend wouldn't be far.

"Briquet," I called. "Briquet, come here."

A little, green Terrible Terror came frolicking out of the bushes. He jumped and flew up to land on my arm, and I giggled as he crawled up my arm and across my shoulders. "It's good to see you too, Briquet," I told him. As he kept crawling all over me, I laughed again and pulled out the fish I'd brought him. "Alright, alright," I said, "yes, I brought a treat for you."

He tried to snap at it, but I pulled it back. "Not yet, Briquet. Sit." I pointed to the ground, and he scampered down my other arm and sat in front of me, looking up at me expectantly.

"Lie down."

He lay down.

"Roll over."

He did.

"Circle."

I drew a circle in the air with my finger and held my arm up. Briquet leapt up and flew a wide circle around me and landed on my arm again. "Good boy," I said. I fed him the fish and stroked his back while he nuzzled my cheek.

Briquet had been my friend for a year now—probably the best friend a non-Viking had ever made of a dragon, even a little one. When I first found him, he was sick with eel pox—delirious and coughing up little fireballs everywhere. Dragons get eel pox by eating uncooked eels, the same as people; normally, they avoid them like the plague, though. I didn't know how he caught it, but I did know the cure for eel pox. I whipped up a dose for him, just leaving out the eel. It was hard to get close to him. Even a Terrible Terror is dangerous and aggressive in the wild, and the constant fireballs made him even worse. I used a heavy roll of leather as a shield so I could get close enough to feed it to him. He ate it and perked right up. I was amazed how easy it was to befriend him after that. Now, he was as friendly as a cat.

With the saints' guidance, I trained Briquet and taught him to do tricks—some like a dog and some like a falcon. I learned as much as I could about him. Not all dragons are alike, but most of them are similar enough. I learned what kinds of fish he liked to eat, how to distract him with sunlight reflected off my knife, how to pacify him with Dragon Nip, where he liked to be scratched, and how to make him more comfortable when he slept.

I figured out that last part when he curled up in my lap for a nap, and after I saw a Hobblegrunt land in the clearing and make a bed for itself by burning the grass and lying on it. Larger dragons landed in the clearing from time to time, but I never got close enough to touch one. I realized Briquet being alone could be a problem because he might get cold at night. Terrors fly in flocks, and I could guess they bed down together for warmth, but Briquet had lost his. So I taught him to make a warm bed of burnt grass for himself like the Hobblegrunt. That was one of the hardest things I had to teach him because it's not normal Terror behavior, but he seemed a lot livelier after that, although I was happy to see that he still enjoyed curling up in my lap, too.

I had been playing with Briquet for a little while when I heard a sound overhead like the squawking of an enormous bird. I knew most of the common species by their calls, so I knew it was a Deadly Nadder. I picked up Briquet and ducked back into the trees. As I'd suspected, the dragon was alone, and it was a wild one. It circled the clearing once and fluttered down for a feather-light landing, stalking over to the pool to drink. When this happened before, I had always stayed back and watched from the trees, but this time, I heard the voices of the saints speaking to me.

Jehanne, go to him.

I stood up straighter. I had never come close to a dragon that size except once during that raid, but the saints said I was ready. I stepped into the clearing slowly. The Nadder didn't notice at first. I had time to collect my roll of leather, carefully wrapped up to keep it dry, to use as a shield. A Terrible Terror was dangerous, but alone, it was little threat, even to a young girl. But a Deadly Nadder could shoot razor-sharp spines from its tail with the accuracy of a master archer, and its flame could turn a man to ash where he stood. This was a far different creature.

The dragon noticed me. Lightning-fast, it spun around, flaring its tail spines. It took two great leaps forward and shrieked at me like a monstrous eagle, but I stood perfectly still and held my ground. When I didn't attack it, the Nadder calmed and lowered its tail spines, though it still eyed me warily.

I extended my empty hand and crept forward. The dragon twitched, standing in place and watching for any sudden moves. Briquet and the other Terrors that landed in the clearing always grew calm and docile with me if I approached them slowly and stroked their heads, but the Nadder was more cautious. As I drew closer, it hissed and stepped back, raising its tail again. I stopped and lowered my hand until it calmed, and I tried again, but it happened twice more. He just wouldn't let me get close enough. On the third try, I thought he was about to shoot his spines at me, so I quickly raised the roll of leather to cover my face.

And then, I heard St. Catherine speaking to me: Put it down, Jehanne. Have faith.

Trembling, I looked up. The Nadder was still standing there, watching me. I couldn't protect myself without the shield. He was faster than I was. But I couldn't disobey. I cast the leather to the side. The dragon jerked back as if surprised, then took a cautious step forward. Slowly, I reached out to him again, but he still held back and wouldn't let me touch. Eye contact, I realized. They responded to eye contact as a challenge like dogs. He still saw me as a possible threat.

I put all my faith in God's protection as I lowered my head submissively. I would need God's protection if he decided to try to bite it off. But he didn't. Instead, I felt hot breath on my hand, and smooth scales brushed against it. I looked up. The Nadder nuzzled my hand just like the little Terrors did.

Then he noticed me looking and jumped away, but the ice was broken.

He got used to me quickly—not all at once, but he didn't flinch from letting me close enough to touch him after that. I was worried he wouldn't come back the next day, but he did, and he was still friendly enough to let me near. He ate the fish I brought him, let me scratch him under his chin, and chased a mote of reflected sunlight with Briquet. I was happy just to see the two dragons getting along.

By the third day, he was comfortable enough to let me embrace him around the neck, and since it was clear he was staying for a while, I decided it was time to name him. A Sharp Class dragon like him deserved an appropriate name, but in French, it seemed like most of the names of weapons were feminine—sword, arrow, spear, lance, mace, crossbow, halberd, axe—all feminine. I felt like that said more about men than the weapons themselves. But there were a few alternatives. I tried a few on my tongue.

"Sabre," I decided. "That's your name. Sabre."

He seemed to like it.

I came back to the farm with a smile on my face, but my mother's exasperated look made it fade.

"Jehanne, there you are," she said. "I've been looking for you all afternoon."

"I'm sorry, mother. I didn't know I was needed," I told her.

She sighed quietly. "Come with me, Jehanne, I need to talk to you." I followed her around to the barn. Had I forgotten to milk the cows that morning? I didn't think so. "Where do you go in the afternoons?" she asked. "I never see you until supper anymore, except on Sundays."

"I like to walk in the woods," I said, which was true.

"I know there's more to it than that, Jehanne," Mother said. "You've been…strange these past two years. This wandering of yours—it's dangerous. And not proper for a young lady."

"I have done my duties as a young lady, Mother."

"You have, but that's not all you're up to; I know it. You've told us about your visions. Divine they may be, but they worry us—me, your father, your brothers. Catherine has heard you talking to yourself—about dragons. About the prophecy. We don't like what we're hearing—your father especially."

There's one other thing I haven't mentioned yet. You see, for a few years before this, there had been rumors of a prophecy that a young maiden with great skill and wisdom would appear riding a dragon and save France from the Vikings. Some said the prophecy had been spoken by the Vikings' own soothsayers. Other said it was spoken by Merlin and was older that the Viking Empire itself. When they mentioned a place, they always said the maiden would come from "the borders of Lorraine"—a Viking-controlled duchy next to Bar. Domrémy wasn't in Lorraine, but it was perhaps close enough to count, so when the saints told me I was the prophesied maiden and showed me that I could actually tame dragons, I had a good reason to believe them.

"I'm only going where God guides me, Mother," I said.

"You say that," she said. "You may even believe it, but you don't know the trouble you're causing." She turned away silently, as if she were thinking something over. "I didn't want to have to worry you about this, but your father has been having dreams himself."

My eyes widened. "Dreams?" I asked.

"Yes. Dreams of you leaving home, going to France. Dreams of you running off to try to fulfill this prophecy that might not even be real."

"I told you, the saints have called me—"

"We're not in Lorraine, Jehanne!"

"We're near enough to its borders, Mother. And borders change, though I pray they stay where they are."

"It doesn't matter where they are," Mother said. "Your father thinks his dreams are true, and I fear what he will do to stop them. He's protective—but not just of you, and not always for the best, I'm sorry to say. He fears what will happen if you leave—to you, to the family, to the family's honor, to your sister. You're risking his ire by wandering off like you do every day. He…he fears his dream will come true soon."

I stared at her in horror. I couldn't stop now. I'd just befriended Sabre. I was on the verge of making real progress, maybe even learning to ride. "Mother…what are you saying?" I asked.

She choked back tears as she answered: "He told me he would drown you before he let you go on your fool's errand."

My heart clenched in my chest. My own father? He would stop me, kill me before I could do my duty? What was I going to do? "I can't just—" I started.

"You'll do what I tell you to, Jehanne," she cut me off. "For your own sake. You're not to go wandering off in the woods anymore."

And that was that. I cried myself to sleep that night. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to disobey my parents, but I couldn't disobey God's will. Yet I didn't know how I could so much as get back out to the forest again without being caught.

It wasn't until the next day after a restless night that I received an answer from the saints. I knew it was a special day because St. Michael came to me himself.

Jehanne, daughter of God, he said to me.

I looked up and saw the archangel shining like the sun. "Here I am," I called.

Do not be afraid to leave your father's home. He does not yet understand, but he will in time.

"But he said he would drown me," I said. "He's watching me all the time now. I can't even get to the clearing without him finding out. How can I leave home now?"

Fear not. God has prepared a path for you, and His angels will go ahead of you. But you have only a little time. You must prepare all you need and go quickly.

Through several other visions that day, I understood. I begged Catherine to do my chores the next morning and extracted a solemn promise from her not to tell anyone what was happening until I was gone. That night, I packed everything I thought I would need in a sack, and I left at first light the next morning, not waiting for the afternoon.

I hurried to the clearing, slipping past my family's watchful eyes and rushing through the woods, fearful of being found before I could get away. I was nearly there, and I thought I had made it when I heard someone call my name from behind me.

"Jehanne!"

"No," I whispered. I turned around. It was my brother, Jean, running to catch up with me.

"Jehanne, what are you doing?" he said.

"I'm sorry, Jean, I have to go."

"Wait! Tell me what's happening. Father's been half-mad all week over you, and now you're running off into the woods after Mother ordered you not to? What have you been doing out here?"

"Jean, please just let me go. You wouldn't understand."

"Is this about your visions again?"

"Yes! Jean, I have to go. God has called me to save France. Maybe I sound mad, but I know I can do it. You don't know what I've been doing."

"Then help me understand. Please."

I looked over my shoulder in the direction of the clearing and then back at Jean. There was no way I could outrun him if he meant to drag me back, even if I weren't carrying that weight. "Alright," I said. "Follow me, but please, don't be afraid, and don't do anything rash." I took off at a run, and he followed me as fast as he could.

"Good gracious, how did you get this fast?" he panted behind me. I'd forgotten he wasn't used to the rough terrain. I made it all the way in sight of the clearing before he caught up and said, "Will you slow down for a minute? And what do you mean, don't do anything rash—?" He stopped, looking past me in horror. "Jehanne, get behind me," he hissed and pushed me behind him for good measure.

He'd seen Sabre.

"No!" I shouted. "This is what I was talking about."

"That's a wild dragon!"

"Not anymore. I've been taming him."

"Him?!"

"And he's not the first. Look. Briquet! Briquet, come!"

Sabre looked our way, and Briquet popped up into view and flew straight at me. I raised my arm, but Jean shoved me out of the way and pulled out a long knife. "Watch out!" he said.

"No! Don't hurt him!" I pushed him back and caught Briquet before Jean could take a swing at him. Unfortunately, Sabre noticed the fight and charged in in my defense. Jean screamed and prepared to charge him back with his knife, as mad as that was. "STOP! Sabre, down!" I yelled.

Sabre stopped and crouched to the ground, looking up at Jean warily. Jean slowed by kept advancing, raising his knife above his head, but I ran up to him and pulled him over backwards.

"Jehanne, have you gone mad?" he yelled.

"It's okay," I pleaded. "I told you, he's friendly. Look." I turned back to the Nadder. "It's okay, Sabre," I said soothingly. "He's my brother—he's a friend. He just doesn't understand. Come here." Sabre cautiously stood up and approached, and Jean watched in amazement as I pet his snout. "There, you see?" I said.

"That's…that's impossible," he whispered.

"It's not, Jean. It's not even hard. The Vikings have been doing it for three hundred years."

"But we're not Vikings."

"The saints showed me how. You see how they've been helping me now? They led me to Briquet, and I learned from him, and then they led Sabre to me. Dragons aren't untamable. We just never understood before. Come here and see." I took his hand and pulled him closer, but Sabre squawked and jerked back. "Jean," I whispered, "put the knife down. He's afraid of it."

Jean looked like he was about to argue, but with his little sister already petting a man-eating dragon like an overgrown chicken, he must have decided it wasn't the time. He dropped his knife and let me pull him closer, placing his hand on Sabre's snout. "There, you see? He's a friend," I said to both of them.

"So…this is what you've been doing all those times you wandered off," he said.

"Yes, Jean…But now that Father means to stop me, I have to go. St. Michael himself told me it was time. I have to leave so I can keep working. I have to save France as God commanded."

It finally clicked for Jean. "You can ride?" he said in awe.

"I'm learning," I admitted.

"But…you're going to teach our people to ride dragons?"

"Yes."

That was all it took to convince him. He even followed me into the clearing and helped me get ready to go. I already had an idea to turn my roll of leather into a makeshift saddle, but he was able to do it much better than I could. I thanked God that Sabre was so calm to let me bridle him so soon. Once everything was secure, Jean saw me off and told me not to worry about him; he could handle any thrashing Father gave him for it. I made sure Briquet was ready to go with me, said goodbye to my brother, and Sabre spread his wings and took to the sky.

And that was the most wonderful moment of my life.

It was also the most terrifying.

Words can't begin to describe the feeling of flying. People have dreamed of it since long before Vikings first rode dragons, and ever since, they have been envied not just for their strength in conquest, but also because they had access to an experience none of us ground-dwellers could ever have. Soaring through the air, feeling the wind on your face, and seeing the terrain flash by at impossible speeds, so high you feel like you can see the whole world—it was so beautiful I couldn't speak. It must be a glimpse of what the angels see, I thought. When Sabre flew me up into the clouds, I never wanted to come down, even though I was scared out of my wits at the same time.

Dragons fly far faster than a horse can run, and Nadders were the fastest dragons around. There's no other way for a human being to go anywhere near that high and that fast, so there was absolutely no way I could have prepared for it. The smallest mistake can be fatal in flight, and I didn't have anything like a proper saddle for Sabre when I left. I clung to his spines for dear life the whole time we were in the air.

It took some time, but I eventually figured out how to steer. I didn't know where I was to go, but I knew I would find no friendly territory near Bar, as the Vikings had us surrounded.

I turned us to the south.

Isle of Berk

1105

The Berk Council: what happens when you put a bunch of Viking family heads in a room and tell them to play nice. They're a squabbling mess on the best of days, and this wasn't the best of days. Technically, they were only advisers to the Chief, but I couldn't afford to ignore them too often. Vikings tended to get annoyed by things like that, and annoyed Vikings are not something you want to deal with. And that goes double when Spitelout is involved. Today's topic of discussion, as usual, was the missionaries.

"Look, I'm not saying Harold and Olaf aren't nice men," Spitelout said. "I'm just saying, have a look at the influence they're having on the village. I've seen them talking to the kids around town. They eat up those stories of theirs."

"Aye, and so does Fishlegs," Gobber pointed out.

"Well, that's just Fishlegs," I said. "He likes stories more than most of the kids.

"Spitelout is right, Hiccup," Mom cut in. "You know they are trying to lead the children away from Forn Sidhr. They've said that's why they're here from the beginning."

"And you and Gothi have done a good job of upholding the Old Custom, Mother," I told her. "That doesn't mean we have to kick Harold and Olaf out. I'm not planning on giving up Odin or Thor anytime soon, and I'm not worried for the practice in the village, either. What good is our faith if it can't hold up to someone with a different point of view?"

"But if their faith is spreading?" Sven piped up. "I heard a rumor that Mulch and Bucket did some Christian ritual where they got dunked in the river."

There were loud murmurs around the Council table. That was news to most of them, and worrying news at that. "Baptism," I said. "It's called baptism. It's something new converts do to demonstrate they faith."

There were even louder murmurs then. "So it's true, then?" said Spitelout. "They converted? Left the Old Custom behind?"

I sighed and raised a hand, silencing the council. "Yes, it's true," I said. "Apparently, Bucket and Mulch are Christians, now."

"Outrageous!"

"Traitors!"

"We should throw them all out of the village!"

"Guys! Guys!" I yelled. I banged the hilt of my sword on the table for order. "I really think you're overreacting."

"Yeah, we are talking about Bucket here," said Gobber.

"True, it's not like he's the smartest guy around," Gustav agreed. That was an understatement. Bucket couldn't remember the start of a conversation from its end half the time. We were lucky we managed to get the pair of them off the Council themselves.

"But Mulch isn't stupid, either," Sven insisted. "People are following them. They'll bring the wrath of the gods on us if they keep this up."

"Thor will smite us!"

I groaned. People said that every lightning storm since long before the missionaries came here. "I don't think Thor is going to smite us over Mulch and Bucket," I said. "Think about it. The whole point of letting Harold and Olaf stay in Berk was to hear them out and let them teach their faith to anyone who wanted to hear it. I said that at the start. I'm not surprised they won a few converts, but I also know I'm not going to stop worshiping Odin, and the fact that we're even having this discussion means most of you aren't going to either. Besides, Norway is a Viking kingdom, and they say plenty of Norwegians have been Christians for over a hundred years, including the king, and Thor hasn't smote them."

"But we only have their word on that," said Spitelout.

"So we'll send an expedition to investigate for ourselves. I've matched my map to theirs. Norway isn't far past where Eret's old Trapper fort was. A team of dragons could get there in a few days."

My proposal was met with silence. No one had been expecting that. I wasn't sure if they were more surprised about the news about Norway or that I actually suggested an expedition to the mainland. Even Norway was so far out from Berk that we rarely thought about it. Dragon-fighting had made us insular—not like our cousins who sailed all the way across to Vinland and back. Or maybe they were surprised that no one else had thought of such a simple answer.

"Hiccup's right. We can afford to keep them at least that long," Astrid spoke up for the first time. She was on the Council because of her rank in the Riders, but as my fiancée, I would technically become her family head, so it was a little irregular. "And besides, haven't they been doing good work here? They haven't been a burden to us, and they haven't even tried to pry too deep into dragon riding. I know many of you have appreciated their help. All of us were happy to have the extra hands during harvest season, right?"

Most of the Council reluctantly agreed with her. The monks didn't really work for a living back in Norway, but they did maintain their monasteries, so they were good for any odd jobs that needed done. They helped us with farming, building, repair work of all kinds, and sometimes cooking and cleaning. They asked about the dragons, and we let them help with little things, but they didn't complain when we were cautious about revealing too much. Aside from the proselytizing, they were the perfect guests.

Naturally, they were eager to talk about their faith. While they lived and worked with the people of Berk, I started reading their Bible when I had the time—both in Norse and increasingly in Latin. For me, it was mostly a chance to learn the language, but it was an interesting book. Of course, the Monks knew it backwards and forwards despite its size and were quick to respond to any interest. I liked a lot of the stories myself, like the little boy who took down a giant by fighting smarter instead of harder, or the wise king who could rule justly in the most difficult of cases, or the queen who saved her people by political maneuvering. The Eddas had some of that, but not a lot, and it usually involved Loki's tricks. Granted, parts of the book were bloody even by Viking standards, but their god, Jesus, definitely wasn't—more of a Baldr than an Odin—in more ways than one, in fact.

Anyway, I called the vote, and the Council agreed to the expedition. That was good. I thought we could use more contact with the mainland anyway after what I'd seen. "Alright, then," I said. "Gustav, as leader of the Auxiliary Riders, I want you to lead the expedition to Norway." Gustav was a competent, more-or-less neutral person to take the lead on this. "Take Eret with you. He knows the way and has more dealings with them than any of us. And take Fishlegs, too. He's the best at actually documenting things. Get ready, pack supplies, and fly as soon as you're able, but don't spread it around what you're doing. If Harold and Olaf ask, just say we want to reconnect with our cousins on the mainland. That's true enough."

"Aye aye, Chief," Gustav said.

"And remember, this is our first major contact with the mainland since the great inter-tribal council that Drago destroyed years ago, and more importantly, it's the first since we started riding dragons, so…actually, do you want to go, Mother? I'm sure Fishlegs can manage, but you'd make for a stronger diplomatic envoy." That was a bit of a risk considering how much Mom disliked the missionaries, but she really was the best diplomat we could spare.

She considered a moment and said, "Yes, I would be happy to go, Hiccup. And I know those parts well, too, so I could be doubly useful."

"Great. That's settled, then," I said. Before we closed, I considered bringing up the other piece of news I had: the monks had told me that now that they had converts in Berk, they were interested in building a chapel—something like an enclosed altar, I thought, smaller than their "churches" and "cathedrals". I didn't have any strong objections, but I decided to keep that bit to myself. No need to kick up that hornets' nest until after the expedition got back. Hopefully, their report would let cooler heads prevail.

A/N: Vinland is the Norse name for Newfoundland in Canada, which was briefly colonized by Vikings in the real world.